


Healed

by oooknuk



Series: Scars [2]
Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 22:12:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10750848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oooknuk/pseuds/oooknuk
Summary: The warm fuzzies directly after the nasty stuff in 'Scarred'





	Healed

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters you recognise will belong to Alliance. No infringement of copyright intended. Not for profit.   
> Warnings: strong language, m/m, references to nonconsensual sex and assault. No rabbits, rodents or ducks were   
> harmed in the making of this story. No nasturtiums are intended to be cast upon the complimentary packages offered in the Hilton - but there really is a honeymoon package and there is a Hilton at the address given. No other resemblance intended. 
> 
> Author's note: This is a sequel to, and directly follows the event in 'Scarred'. My thanks to Wax Jism and Mia for comments on the first and beta'ing of the second story. And to Aislinn for picking up a pile of very embarrassing typos after the first posting.

Ray takes a taxi to the Hilton on Michigan Avenue - he doesn't want to trust the GTO to valet parking. He's taken the trouble to shower, shave and change into a suit - only, he tells himself, so the Hilton staff don't think he's a bum. His nervousness is growing by the second, and by the time he's found out what floor the suite is on, he's banging one hand impatiently on any available surface. It's useless to tell himself that this is only Ben he's meeting - this time it's different, and he knows it. Whether it's better different or not, he just can't tell. He's brought the rabbit pellets, feeling dumb, but hey, Ben went to the trouble of getting them, so....

The door of the suite is opened at the first knock. Ben is there, looking groomed and fresh, in a white open-necked shirt and pressed trousers, and Ray thinks he's never seen him look more like the Ice Prince he once thought he was. For some reason, this doesn't help his nerves. He stands in the doorway, uncertain what to do. Ben takes his small overnight bag out of his hand, and beckons him in. Ray shuts the door behind him.

"You were pretty sure I'd come."

Ben puts his bag in the closet, and walks over to him. "It's what you said you wanted. I just hoped ... you said you wanted a chance."

Ray pulls the card and the torn up transfer form from his suit pocket. "You know this doesn't change things."

"I know."

"You know we gotta talk."   Still not wanting to let Ben think this is going to be a walkover.

"I know that too. It's what I hope we'll do this weekend."

Ray pulls the bag of pellets out of his pocket and tosses it up and down one-handedly. "You booked the most expensive room in the most expensive hotel in Chicago just so we could talk?"

"I want to do whatever you want, Ray. I think you've earned the right," Ben says evenly.

Ray tosses the bag of pellets angrily to one side. "Oh, so, like I get cut up and molested and nearly bleed to death, so that gives me the right to fuck you all of a sudden." He turns to leave but Ben quickly comes to him and gently restrains him, holding him by the upper arms.

"Ray ... no. It's not like that. I know I'm the one who has no rights here. I've let you down, lied ... damn near got you killed. But you were right when you said you knew I wanted you. I've wanted you for a long time. I just wanted ... I thought you wanted ... is this another mistake?"

Ray looks at him, looks at the earnest, worried eyes. The urge to run is as strong as the urge to nail this man to a mattress - or just kiss him stupid.  "Fraser, I'm just fucked up here."

"Might this help?" Ben leans in slowly. Ray stands stock still, knowing his friend is going to kiss him, not wanting to stop him, but too scared to encourage him. But Ben stops. "Do you want this?" he whispers.

Ray nods, and Ben closes the gap, and covers Ray's mouth with soft lips. Hesitantly, Ray touches Ben's lips with his tongue, and they part to admit it. Then Ray no longer passively accepts, but returns the kiss, his arms going around Ben's back, pulling him tight. Thought flees temporarily as he loses himself in the taste and sensations, so long dreamed of, but so different ... so much better than his dream.

Minutes pass before they part. Ray looks at Ben, who is watching him solemnly. "Does this mean we're done?"

Ben cocks his head. "Is that what you want?"

Ray clenches his fists in frustration - he's not in the mood for games, and he's so used to Ben leading, it's unnerving him that just when he wants him not to, he's stepping aside and making Ray do all the running.  "Hell, Fraser, I don't know what I want. I want you. I want the past two weeks not to have happened. I want you never to have met Claude fucking Duroy. Shit, I should go."

He turns away, and looks for his bag, then he hears Ben speak. "Before you decide, I think you should know that I love you, Ray Kowalski."

Ray turns back. "Then why the fucking hell did you sleep with that bastard, Fraser? You know I love you, you had to know that - I mean, I never said it, but ... you knew, I know you knew ... shit!" He takes off his jacket,  then flops into one of the armchairs near the bed and glares at Ben, pulling at his tie which feels as if it's suddenly choking him.

Ben comes to him and kneels in front of him, takes his hand. "Yes, I did know. I did you a wrong, and I denied myself. You paid the price. I was just trying to protect you, protect your career. Protect you from me."

"Are you nuts, Fraser? Why?"

"I ... I don't have the best record with relationships."

Ray snorts. "You can say that again. But maybe that's because of who you sleep with, you ever think of that?"

Ben half-smiles and strokes Ray's hand with his thumb. "The thought had crossed my mind, Ray. But I also think the impulse towards those sort of people, as you said, indicates a far from healthy psyche. I didn't want to inflict that on you."

Ray frees his hand and takes hold of Ben's chin.  "You never thought that maybe it was a little late for that? It's not like we ever spend any time apart now. Except in bed."

"As you say. Except for bed."

"Fraser, I can't.  I keep seeing that guy - and you ...." Ray closes his eyes, until Ben touches his face.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. I'm more than sorry you had to endure that,  but we've been through so much, and you're so strong, I hoped ... I thought you might ...." He stands up. "But I understand, Ray. We don't have to do anything but talk. Or not even that."

"There's only one bed, Fraser."

"I can sleep on the floor."

Ray wishes he knew Ben was joking. "You would, wouldn't you, you dumb Mountie. You'd spend hundreds of dollars a night on a room to sleep on the fucking floor."

"Actually, the carpet is quite comfortable."

Ray feels he is being pushed, and he doesn't like it. "Look, you can sleep in the bed. I can sleep with you if I have to."

"Ray, there's no question of you having to do anything."

Ray stands up, walks up to Ben until he is right in his face. It's time for him to get some control over this situation. He's sick of feeling forced, messed around - manipulated.  "Fraser, I'm here because I want to be, okay. Just don't push.  And you got some explaining to do." He walks over to the wine cooler with the bottle of 'champagne'.  "This part of the package?"

"Why, yes, of course. It _is_ the honeymoon suite. There were some rather revolting looking chocolates on the pillow as well - I put them in the drawer. And I believe there is a complimentary breakfast, if you think you'll still be here."

Ray pretends a nonchalance he doesn't feel. "Complimentary, huh? Guess I could stick around for that." He lifts the bottle. "You want some of this?  Uh, I'm not gonna force you to, if you don't..."

Ben takes the bottle from him, and expertly opens it. "I think it would be entirely appropriate, Ray."

Ray stands back and lets Ben pour the wine into the two flutes, again expertly and without mess - Ray figures that being at the Consulate must have given him lots of practice - or maybe Ben is just naturally good at this shit. Ben hands him a glass, and for a moment Ray wonders if Ben is going to make a toast. But no, he sips at his drink and clearly expects Ray to do the same, which he does. To Ray, champagne always tastes slightly of bubbly cat's piss, but goddamn, he needs a drink. This situation is so fucked up. He's mad and he's horny and he's scared ... if things screw up this weekend, he'll lose his partner and his best friend, and the man he's been in love with for over a year.  He knocks back most of the glass, and Ben tops it off without comment. Ray wonders if Ben hates beer as much as he hates this cheap fizzy muck. But the alcohol is helping. By the time he's drained his glass, the urge to run has faded to a background nagging sensation he can live with, and he thinks there's half a chance he might get through the evening without punching a hole in the wall. Or Ben.

Ben finishes his glass and asks Ray if he wants any more. Ray shakes his head. Ben puts the bottle back in the cooler - more for tidiness than any prospect of them drinking it, Ray suspects. He wonders what they will do now;  it's a little too early to eat. Way too early to go to bed. It'd be dumb to watch TV, but the idea of talking  - even though he's been badgering Ben to do so - is scary. He really doesn't know what Ben will say.

Ray realizes Ben is watching him intently. "What?"

"I was wondering if... if I could kiss you again?"

God - lust and fear. What a combination. His dick doesn't know whether it's coming or going. "Uh... that might be good."  And it is. Kissing is good. Kissing feels ... God, so right. Even with things so fucked up,  Ben being so fucked up, with Ray's chest still pulling from the dozens of stitches they had to put in, kissing is like coming home. Man, Ben can kiss. And those big strong arms, nothing like Stella's ... and he smells fucking amazing. They could bottle that smell. Ray would buy every drop.

Ben pulls away and tugs gently on Ray's hand. Ray thinks about fighting just for the hell of it, just to show he's the one in charge here, but he knows he's not. He lets Ben lead him to the bed, and sits down. Ben enfolds him again, and kisses him, not just on the lips, but nuzzles his ears and his neck. Ray shivers - his neck is his weakness, he loves being touched there. Stella used to lick him - she could almost make him come by doing that. Suddenly he pushes Ben away. "Slow down, Fraser. Jesus.  I can't think when you do that. Look. Talk first. Then we kiss."

Ben pushes himself back on the bed, and rests against the headboard. "What do you want to talk about first?"

It annoys Ray that Ben seems so calm about this, when his own guts are in a knot.  He gets up off the bed. "Duroy. Everything." Moving to the armchair helps him feel calmer, even though he immediately misses the closeness.

Ben sits up, looks a little more formal, as if he feels he has no right to be comfortable while talking about this. "I met him when I went to Ottawa for that month-long secondment - you remember? He was staying at the same hotel, and he asked me if I'd like to join him for dinner. He was very interesting to talk to." Ray snorts in disgust.  "Yes, you can laugh, and it's hard to remember that, but he was  - and he was interested in me. He invited me to his room for coffee and more talk..."

"It's a wonder he didn't ask you to come and see his etchings, Fraser. Fuck, are you always so trusting?"

"I admit it's a fault I'm learning to overcome, in light of recent events," Ben says dryly. "But he was a gentleman, and made no attempt to ..."

"Seduce you?"

"No. He waited until the second night for that." Ray hears the self-mockery in Ben's voice. "Ray ... I wasn't in love with him, not at any point ... but I was lonely, I missed you, I never thought I would be with you ..."

Ray hardens his heart against the plea. "Tell me about the kinky stuff. I don't get that, Fraser ... I mean I don't get it anyway, but you?"

Ben laces his hands in front of him, and doesn't meet Ray's eyes. "It wasn't like that at first. He was very considerate. But then he suggested handcuffs. The way he asked, it wasn't as if it was important ... and I was curious. It was ... it was quite exciting. And every night, we did a little more. I didn't think we were doing anything wrong."

"Like an addiction, Fraser? You're not the type."

"You don't know what type I am, Ray," he says quietly. "When I said I wanted to protect you from me, believe me, I knew what I was talking about."

"Fraser, don't tell me you want to tie me up, you want to hurt me. I don't believe you." Ray is angry, and now a little frightened by what he is hearing.

"No. Never. I couldn't hurt you. Even punching you when you demanded it, I wished I'd cut my arm off.  But what if I wanted you to tie me up? What if I wanted you to hurt me?"

Ray is shocked. "No fucking way on this God's earth, Fraser."

"Not even if I asked you? Not even if I deserved it?"

"Nobody deserves that . This is insane, Fraser. How can you... what have you ever done that makes you think that way? God,  you're serious, you really think you deserve to be hurt."

Ray feels like he is going to be sick. He can't stay seated any more, so he walks over to the window. "I don't understand, Fraser," he says, staring out the window, blindly looking towards Grant Park.

"I'm not sure I do."  Ray jumps - Ben's voice comes from just behind him. He turns. Ben is close, not enough to touch, but close. His expression is resigned, as if he has already lost the battle. "It's not something I've really thought about before. All I know is that Claude awoke an appetite in me that I was unaware of.  I found it ... liberating, I suppose the word is. Like I didn't have to be me, not be in control for a while."

Ray nods, finding that this makes a surprising amount of sense. Ben is one of the most controlled people he'd ever met - the real wonder is that he hasn't gone nuts before now. Ben continues. "But the lack of consent - the brutality that Claude enjoyed. I don't want that - don't understand how anyone could do such things. From what I gather, he was not typical of people who are into ... things like that."

He doesn't explain but Ray doesn't need him to draw him a picture.  Actually, he's relieved. "So you're not saying that you want me to hit you, or any of that?"

"I can honestly say that is absolutely the last thing I want you to do, or to have you do with me. Ray,  you're a gentle man underneath that tough cop act."

"That's why you wouldn't tell me how you feel - you thought I'd hate you because of all this? Because of him?"

"Well, God knows, I was disgusted enough at myself, and your initial reaction was fairly strong, Ray."

"Yeah - I'm sorry. I was just  ... shocked, you know?"

"And now?" Ben's voice is low, and his eyes hold no expectation of encouragement. Ray knows the time for talk has, however temporarily, passed. He steps up to Ben, and begins, slowly, to undo his shirt buttons. Ben stands quite still, letting Ray do as he wishes. Ray pulls the shirt open and slides it off Ben's arms. It is weird, Ray thinks, that in all the time he's known Ben, he'd never seen his chest. Ben is bare underneath his shirt, and the hideous scar is still hidden by the trousers. Not that Ben is perfect. He has other scars and marks, the worst being like a blob of wax near his collar bone. Ray touches it. "Him?"

Ben half chokes, half laughs. "No - an otter." Ray stares. "It's true - I was hit by a dead otter when I was ten."

"You're a freak, Fraser."

"I think we've established that to everyone's satisfaction, Ray."

"Could you turn around?"

Ben does so obligingly, and his submissiveness worries Ray slightly, although he says nothing.  Ray looks at Ben's back, then says in a strangled voice. "Put your shirt back on, Fraser." He walks quickly to the bathroom, and slams the door. Over the sound of his own retching, he hears the door to the room bang shut.

Ray finishes, and washes his face. He looks for something to wash his mouth out with, and sees the toothbrush and paste provided by the hotel, so he cleans his teeth. He's still shaking. When he comes out of the bathroom, Ben has gone, and he wonders if the weekend is now over. But no, Ben's jacket is still in the closet. Ray hangs up his own, and slings the discarded tie on the hanger. He pours himself a glass of the now mostly flat champagne, and even though the taste nauseates him, he just wants something to wash the disgust away. He sits in a chair by the window, to think. He's not sure how long he's been there before he hears the click of the room door opening, not long, he supposes, but he doesn't look round. He hears something plastic-wrapped hitting a surface, and then Ben is beside in him, in the other chair.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"He whipped you ... he bit you. Fraser, please tell me - how could you let him do that to you? Every time I look at you, I'll see him, know what he did. And you let him."

Ben reaches tentatively for Ray's hand, and Ray lets him take it. "It was only the once, Ray. He got carried away - at least, that's what he said. Now I know of course ...." Ben's composure is cracking at last, and it gives Ray no pleasure. "He asked me to dinner, and I told him I couldn't... not any more ...  and that's when he..."

"Drugged you. Raped you. Cut you." Ray feels as if he is going to be sick again.

"Yes. Ray ... I do know the difference between stimulation ... and sadism.  But for the rest - I have a high threshold for pain. I didn't find it excessive..."

Ray puts his hand up. "I don't want to hear about it. I don't want to know the details. I don't want you to mention his name again. He's dead. If I could kill him again myself, I'd do it." A horrifying thought comes to him. "You did have to ....?"

Ben stops him. "There was no other way. I swear that on my word of honor as a Mountie.  I couldn't immobilize him from my position, and if he got free, you would have died.  He died so we both could live. I feel no guilt. If I'd killed him for revenge, I would."

Not for the first time, Ray wonders if he knows the man opposite him at all. He needs to change the subject. "Where did you go, while I was, you know, barfing up a lung?"

"I went to the gift shop. In this hot weather I usually sleep bare, and I hadn't brought a T-shirt to wear to bed."

"I'm throwing up and all you can think of is what you're going to wear to bed?"

"Since looking at me makes you ill, I wanted to spare you that."

And then Ray is ashamed.

"Fraser ... can I call you Ben ... or Benton?" Ray stumbles over the last name, hearing Claude's sibilant French-accented voice saying it, caressing it even as he plotted the next torture for them - for him.

"Ben is fine. My mother called me Ben. So does Quinn."

"Ben - could you hold me?" Ben stands, and crosses the very short distance between them, kneels, and wraps his arms around Ray. Ray clutches at him; he must let that sweetness take the taste of his disgust, his fear, away from him. "Will we ever get past this?" he whispers into Ben's hair.

"Yes, if you want to."

They hold each other for a long time, Ben settling into a comfortable position with his head on Ray's abdomen, giving Ray a close-up view of one of his best features, his silky hair. No fear of scars or memories in looking at that, and Ray indulges himself in a long-held wish to pet and stroke the softness, to wind the slight curling length around his own long fingers. The action of petting, of being petted, soothes them both , and the tension eases. The sun is just beginning to set so Ray knows it's late. His stomach hurts from heaving, but he feels it might be better with something inside it.

"You hungry?" he asks Ben.

"Not really - but I could eat."

Ben orders a club sandwich each for them. While they wait, he asks if Ray minds if he changes out of his clothes. They both change into the hotel's white bathrobes which are soft and generous and conceal things well. Ray keeps his T-shirt and boxers on underneath. Nudity is no longer something he can take for granted. He can feel the the tension is rising in him again, and his stomach starts to cramp.

"I need a drink, Fraser." Actually, he needs to be somewhere else, but he refuses to run. Booze is the next best thing.

"Why don't you have one? There's a minibar."

He's grateful that Ben is not lecturing him about his drinking. He's not usually much of a drinker but these last two weeks have brought him to the point where it's either a beer or crack up, and he's not going to crack up in front of Ben again. But as he puts his hand on the minibar door, Ben touches his shoulder. "Ray, if you just want to relax, I could give you a massage."

Ray nods. He opens the minibar but only hauls out a juice.  Ben doesn't comment.  The food arrives and Ray notices he is hungry after all. This is normal, at least, them eating together. Except this is different, sitting with Ben in a bathrobe, knowing, _knowing,_ that tonight they will sleep with each other. In whatever way that means.

Ray pushes his plate away. "That was good."

"Yes. I'm impressed."

"You spend a lot of time in honeymoon suites?"

"Ah... no, Ray, but one way or another, I've stayed in a number of hotels. You're making fun of me."

"Yeah. Gonna do something about it?"

"I might."

Ben walks over to Ray, leans over him and tilts his head up for a soft kiss.  Ray stands so they are face to face, takes Ben's head between his hands, and goes for a deeper kiss, using his tongue and every ounce of technique he's learned over the years. Ben pulls back, a little breathless. "Are you still tense, Ray?"

"Are you backing out of the massage, Ben?"

"No. I owe you that at least. I owe you so much more than that."

He grabs the collar of Ray's robe and tugs him forward, swinging him carefully onto the bed. Ray falls onto it with a soft 'oomph' but makes no other move. "Ben.  I ... can I leave my clothes on? Christ, I sound like a virgin or something."

Ben looks at him with sympathy. "I understand, Ray.  No, please do. I can work around it."

Ray wriggles out of his robe, and throws it to one side. Ben slides gracefully out of his own, still dressed in boxers and a T-shirt, then takes both bathrobes and hangs them up. Ray is about to make a sarcastic remark about neatness as Ben comes back to the bed but then he sees something. He grabs  Ben's hand. "What the fuck is this, Fraser? This ... this mess."

He turns Ben's hand over. There is an ugly, barely healed wound all the way around the wrist. "Who did this to you, Ben?"

"I did."

"Jesus!" Ray drops his hand like he's been scalded, but Ben reaches for him.

"Ray, no. It's not like that - it's from the cuff. Trying to get free - I guess I didn't notice how badly damaged I was."

Ray draws his knees up to his chest, wraps his arms around them to protect himself against remembered pain. "I can't do this, I can't. Everything I look at, see on you, reminds me of him. Every time we make love, I'll see him - every time I touch you, I'll see him with his cock in your mouth ..." He jams the side of his hand against his lips, to stop the words, to stop his meal returning.

Ben sits in front of him, but doesn't touch him. "I'm sorry, Ray. I knew this would be hard. I just didn't think it would be this hard ...." He stands up and goes to the cupboards. "This was a mistake, it's too soon," he says almost to himself.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm getting dressed. Look, stay the weekend. You could do with the break and you don't need the pressure of me being around you. Everything's paid for, just enjoy it."

Ray doesn't move from the bed. "No."

"No, what, Ray?" Ben asks, digging in the closet.

"No. This isn't how it ends."

Ben stops rummaging and turns to stare at Ray. "He's won, don't you see? You can't look at me without being sick, without me reminding you of him. I can't ask you to endure that. It's bad enough...." He turns back to the closet, and pulls out his clothes.

Ray gets off the bed and walks silently over to Ben, startling him when he touches his shoulder. "It's bad enough ...? Finish what you were going to say."

"It's not important, Ray. Please let me get dressed."

Ray takes the hanger with the shirt and trousers out of Ben's hand, and shoves it back in the closet, shuts it, then gets in front of Ben so he's holding the closet closed with his body. "Tell me."

"Ray, please ..."

"If you want to get dressed, you'll have to fight me, Ben. You'll have to hit me and move me away. Is that what you want to do?"

Ben turns from him angrily, moves away to the window. Ray stays leaning on the closet.

Ben stands silent for so long, Ray begins to wonder if he intends to wait until Ray falls asleep and sneak past him then. You don't know how stubborn I can be, Fraser, Ray thinks. But at last Ben turns to him. "What do you want? You already said I make you ill, but you won't let me go. What am I supposed to do?"

"You can stop lying to me, and start telling me what's going on in your head. Look, Fraser... Ben, you've been acting like I'm made of glass since I got here, watching every word, being thoughtful and polite... but two weeks ago, you were raped by that son of a bitch. You saw me nearly killed. You had to kill him to save our skins. Don't tell me that didn't hurt you."

"Oh for God's sake, Ray!" Ben shouts, and Ray starts, unprepared for the vehemence of his reaction. "What do you want to hear? That I've been having nightmares about seeing what he did to you, every time I go to sleep? That every time I shut my eyes I see his penis in my face? That sometimes I can hardly keep food down for remembering the taste of ... God, Ray - do you think I'm Superman? Use your goddamn imagination and stop torturing me like this. I need you, I love you but I don't want you to see more of my ...  my darkness than you already have. You have to leave me with some shred of dignity, or I can't go on." Ben's chest is heaving. He wraps his arms tightly around himself, but still faces Ray with a defiant glare.

Ray steps away from the closet. "Yes," he says quietly.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes. That is what I wanted to hear. I wanted to know I'm not the only fruitcake in the room. That you aren't Superman. Fuck, Ben - I've seen you do so many things, go through so much, and it never touches you. I couldn't bear it - couldn't believe it, if you kept pretending that this was just me, that you didn't feel anything."

"I'm not a block of wood, Ray," he says almost sorrowfully. "It hurt - how did you think it couldn't? I thought you were going to die and I was going to watch it happen. I knew you would hate me for what you had to see, but I still had to try to keep you alive." His anger comes out again. "What the hell else do you want from me?"

The room is almost completely dark now, the sun has set a few minutes ago, and mostly all Ray can now see of Ben is a silhouette against the city lights. But what he can see is shaking, and he can hear Ben's harsh breaths. He walks up to him and put his hands on trembling shoulders. "Nothing, Ben. I want nothing else. All I want is you. All of you.  No secrets, no lies. Can I have that?"

"You already do," he hears Ben whisper. Then he leans and takes Ben's mouth with his. He wants to mark this man, to force the memory of the dead sadist from his mind. Almost desperately they hold each other, kissing, licking, and without words, the decision is made to move to the bed. They wrap around each other, legs tangling, hands searching under shirts for warm skin, running though hair and smelling the sweat of fear, emotion and of lust.

"Love you, Ben Fraser," Ray whispers.

"And I you, Ray."

Ray hasn't done this since he was a teenager, this prolonged, delicious petting. He's never tasted anything as good as Ben, and even through the shirt he delights in the firm mounds of muscle, the  nipples. They're both hard but it's not important. They want contact, they need warmth. Ray's sick of thinking and feeling angry. He's sick of knowing that Ben is living in torment too, for he knew that before he forced Ben's outburst. He knew that the second he opened his eyes in the hospital and saw him there, the pain and the weariness and the stain of blood upon him.

This is easier, in the dark. No surprises. Ray decides that he can take a chance and urges Ben to take his shirt off. "Why?" Ben asks, not unreasonably.

"So I can get used to it, Ben."

"What about when the light comes on?"

"I'll close my eyes. Come on, you said you normally sleep bare."

Ben agrees, and doesn't ask why Ray is not reciprocating.

Only the bite marks at the shoulder and the older indentation from Ray Vecchio's bullet can be felt under Ray's fingertips, and he can handle these. The whip marks are invisible to the touch thankfully. Ben seems to appreciate the touch at least, and a lick to his nipples brings a gasp of delight that sends shivers through Ray. He'd never guessed the reserved Canadian would be so uninhibited, so vocal - every touch, or lick, or kiss is greeted with little moans and sighs.

Somehow they end up with Ray on top of Ben, and unconsciously he begins to thrust then stops himself when he realises what he's doing. "It's okay, Ray. I like it," Ben says softly, giving a little flick of his own hips, shooting pleasure through Ray. Something else he hasn't done since he was in high school, this dry-humping, and he's forgotten how good it can feel if you aren't desperate to get inside the real thing. He licks Ben's nipples, and bites very gently at Ben's neck, a tender touch that leaves no mark like those marring Ben's back. Ben is rocking and moaning underneath him, and the sensation is driving Ray quite insane with pleasure. So much more than he thought they would do tonight, so much more than he ever thought they would be ready to do. He captures Ben's mouth, not releasing him even when he can tell by his movements and his breathing that he is coming. Ray continues to thrust, in no hurry to end this feeling, but Ben torments his mouth, and with a lick to the hollow of his throat sends Ray over the edge. Ray rears up, grinding into Ben, the pleasure very nearly pain. He drops back down onto Ben's heaving chest, utterly boneless, utterly satiated.

He can feel Ben's breath whuffling beside his ear, then a careful tug on his earlobe with precise teeth. "Well, that was exciting, wasn't it," and he can't help but laugh at Ben being so ... well, so damn Fraser.

He lifts his head and finds Ben's mouth, kisses him leisurely. "You're a fucking freak, but I love you."

"Thank you kindly, Ray."

He wonders idly if he's crushing Ben, but Ben's not complaining. Ray feels way too comfortable to move, plastered across his partner's broad chest, his groin still sending little tingles of pleasure from being pressed against Ben's. Ben pets his hair. "This is nice, Ray."

"My hair? You're nuts. It's a mess."

"No. It's you. All spiky and wild - and soft and touchable."

Ray mutters, "Freak," again but is absurdly pleased by the compliment.  At last he sighs and rolls off.

"Something wrong, Ray?" Ben asks, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Nah. Just need to clean up."

"I could ... if you like."

Ray stiffens. He's not sure he wants Ben to touch him like that, not yet - but then if he doesn't let him at some point.... He forces himself to say, "Sure. Whatever. Knock yourself out."

He tries to relax as he listens to Ben washing himself in the bathroom. He comes back wearing the robe, and Ray can't tell if he's put boxers back on or not. He's got a cloth in his hands. "Would you like to ...?" He indicates Ray's underwear. Ray understands his hesitancy - for Ben to take them off is too much like what Claude forced him to do. He shoves his boxers down, works them off his legs with a foot, and flicks them off the bed. He tries to calm his breathing, but Ben's not fooled. He turns and goes to the closet, returns with Ray's robe, very carefully keeping his eyes on Ray's face while covering his lower body. "You have nothing to prove to me, Ray. I understand."

Ray feels foolish and yet relieved, and then angry that such a simple act should be imbued with ugliness. "Ben. Sit. Please." Reluctantly, Ben does so. "We gotta get past this. I know you saw me before, but that wasn't sex. That wasn't this. Not love."

Ben puts his hand on Ray's terrycloth-covered thigh. "You don't have to do this, Ray. It's not very long since ... and you were injured so badly..." He stops speaking as Ray pulls the robe away, and takes Ben's hand and places it squarely on his privates. His chest feels tight with fear, but he's damned if he's giving in to it.

"Please, Ben," he grits out. He feels Ben gently wipe at him, wiping his belly and his pubic hair, then carefully lifting his dick to clean that. The touch is a caress, and it is love. He sighs, half with relief, half with pleasure, when it's done. He's glad it's dark, that's made it easier.

"Do you want clean underwear?"

Ray hesitates before he answers. "No. I don't wear them in bed at home, why should this be different?"

"Do you want me to?"

The scar - that word. Against his will he nods but then realises Ben can't see. "Yes. I'm sorry, Ben. I can't."

"I understand, Ray. I'll be back in a moment."

He's as good as his word. He's left his T-shirt off, but has put on fresh starched boxers. Ray on the other hand is naked from the waist, still wearing his T-shirt and if he weren't so rattled by what's happened, he'd find it funny, the mismatch. Hiding, he thinks. We're still hiding.

Ray gets under the covers. The bed's comfortable, and if he wants to sleep all night without touching his companion, there is plenty of room. But he doesn't. He wants to touch and reassure, to be touched and reassured, and he immediately curls up around Ben, knowing he's the one with the experience of sleeping with people, and also betting that Claude wasn't a cuddler. This is something he could teach the know-it-all Mountie.

"What's so funny, Ray?"

"I give good cuddle, Ben, I hope you know."

"Yes, you do." Ray could hear the smile in Ben's voice. "Good night, Ray. I love you." Ben lays his hand against Ray's face, absurdly like a blessing, even though it's just a caress.

"Love you, Ben." He's asleep in very little time at all.

Ray wakes to the most sickening of sounds - that of someone choking. He fumbles desperately for the bedside light, cursing because he can't find the damn switch.. The sight that greets him when he does get the light to work terrifies him - Ben's face is contorted in a rictus, his body protectively rigid, clearly in the throes of a devastating nightmare. And he is choking.  Ray shakes him, and getting no response, slaps his face twice, hard. Ben's arms suddenly fly out, narrowly missing knocking Ray's teeth out, then he clenches his hands to his chest, and he is sobbing, still completely asleep, no longer choking, but still in  pain. Ray shakes him again, and calls his name over and over. Suddenly Ben's eyes open, still streaming with tears, and he makes a peculiar noise, as if he has started to choke again, then stops. He makes an inarticulate sound which might have been "What?"

'Ben, wake up. It's okay, it was a dream."  Ben wraps his arms around Ray, and buries his head in his lap. "Ben, what was it? You're safe now."

"Can't. Too ... you were dead. Can't." The grief in Ben's voice nearly breaks Ray's heart - he's never seen  him so broken down.

"Ben, look at me. I'm okay, I'm alive."

"I know," says Ben, his voice muffled.. "Just so real ... I'm trapped, can't help ... you're bleeding and begging me for help ... I can't help you... and you bleed to death in front of me."

Jesus God.  He strokes his hair until Ben's breathing calms. He can feel the warm breath on his dick, along with Ben's tears. Just five or six hours ago the idea of Ben's head there - anyone's head there - would have sent him screaming into the night.

Ben lifts his head. "I'm sorry, Ray."

"Is this what you've been dreaming about since it happened?"

Ben nods tiredly. "Variations on the theme. I didn't mean you to have to endure them ... I thought they might go if I was with you. I was wrong, evidently."

He lets Ben sit up. "Don't sweat it, Fraser. It'll take some time. I get some doozies too. Your turn later on."

"God I hope not, Ray. You've had enough to put up with."

"Do you want something to drink? Tea or something?" Ben nods, and Ray goes to get out of bed, before he remembers his lack of pants. Seeing his hesitation, Ben pushes him back by his shoulder.

"I'll get it. Do you want anything?"

"Um. Just juice if they've got any."

Ben puts his robe on and putters about making his tea. Ray squints at the radio alarm clock - two am. They hit the hay pretty early, and he's not as tired as he should be. The adrenaline rush from waking up like that is still pumping the blood around his body at a huge rate, and his chest feels tight and sore across the stitches. Ben sees him rubbing it.

"Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes. More itches. Feels hot, tight."

Ben reaches out a hand, and Ray flinches. "I'm sorry," Ben says. "I just ... in my dream, your chest is cut open, and the blood ... I wish I could see it - see the scar, that you are healed."

Even though his friend needs it, Ray can't bring himself to allow it. "I can't, Ben. I can't look at it, don't want you looking at it." Ben sits on the bed, rubbing his face, tear tracks still visible, and Ray's heart clenches. "Look, give me your hand." Ben holds one out, puzzled, but Ray takes it and slides it under his T-shirt. Then Ben understands, smiles at him gratefully, and rubs his chest gently, soothingly, across the scars. It feels good and Ray closes his eyes, not thinking too much about what Ben is doing, just enjoying the relief from the irritation.

"It doesn't feel so bad - do the doctors think  it will scar permanently?"

Ray answers with his eyes still closed, encouraging Ben a little by pushing into his hand. "They don't think so - if I had olive skin, maybe - but the knife was sharp, and the wounds were clean. They did a pack of microstitching - took forever, hundreds of the bastards. But you can't see the stitches now. I know they're there though."

"You like me touching them?"

"No. I hate it. But your hand makes them feel better. I don't want to talk about it."

"Understood. Why don't you lie down? I can rub you more easily."

Ray does so, Ben's tea and his juice forgotten. Guess I'm getting my massage after all, he thinks. Ben rubs gently, strokes his face at the same time, and the adrenaline dissipates, letting Ray become drowsy. He knows he should be doing something for Ben - he's the one who's woken up from fear. But when Ray opens his eyes briefly, Ben's are half closed and  dreamy, and Ray realizes that he _is_ doing something for Ben after all. He relaxes and enjoys the firm, gentle touch, until he slides into sleep again.

When he wakes, Ben is sitting in an armchair watching him, sipping tea, and he wonders if he's only dozed off for a few minutes. Then his sleepy brain processes the sunlight and realizes that he must have been out for at least three or fours hours - make that six, he corrects himself when he checks the clock. "You been there all night?"

"No. I've been up for an hour or so. I like watching you sleep - you're beautiful."

Ray wishes he had that bag of pellets at hand to throw, but settles for scowling at him instead. "You get back to sleep OK?"

"Eventually, yes. I'm sorry about that..."

"Shut up, Fraser. You got your scars, I got mine. No biggie. Like I said, your turn'll come. Can you throw me my robe, I gotta pee."

Ben does as he asks and looks away - funny, considering he was nose to dick last night. But it's not the same and Ray knows Ben too well to think that he will read too much into it.

He examines his face in the bathroom mirrors, smells his breath and remembering he'd forgotten last night,  cleans his teeth. He opts for a shower, and is glad the mirror is fogged when he gets out. _Fuck, Kowalski, when are you gonna get a grip?_

He wraps himself in the bathrobe and thinks ruefully that they've missed their breakfast since they were too preoccupied to fill out the form last night. But when he emerges, Ben is just setting out the dishes. "When did you order that?"

"Last night, after you fell asleep. They take the breakfast orders until 3 am." Pleasures of a big hotel, Ray thinks. "I ordered what I thought you'd like, I hope you don't mind."

"Coffee?" Ray asks hopefully, and Ben answers by pouring him a cup. "Damn, no Smarties." Ben just smiles, reaches into the nightstand drawer and pulls out a tube. "Ben Fraser, I could kiss you."

"What's stopping you?"

Well, you can't ignore a hint like that. Ray sets his cup down, very deliberately holds Ben by his robe lapels, and kisses him deeply. Ben tastes like tea and toothpaste - trust the Mountie not to neglect oral hygiene. "Hi," he says, an inch from Ben's nose.

"Hi yourself. You okay?"

"Ask me after I get some caffeine, sugar and chocolate inside me."

"The three main food groups?"

"The fourth one is donuts, but you hand me that Danish and I'll love you forever." He doesn't know where the playful mood is coming from but something about a big shiny good-looking lover in the morning and a solid night's sleep might have something to do with it.

Not normally a breakfast eater, Ray nonetheless eats some scrambled eggs and toast, along with copious amounts of the surprisingly good coffee, thinking he could get used to the high life, not to mention eating breakfast with Ben for the rest of his life. But they haven't discussed that yet.

"What's the plan today?" Ray asks. Ben fishes in the pocket of his robe and pulls out the discarded rabbit pellets and Ray finds himself blushing. "Fraser ... geez, you're never gonna let me forget that, are you?"

Ben smiles. "I'm not making fun of you, Ray, although that color suits you. I was thinking we could donate them to the park squirrels, unless you have any plans for them."

"Fine by me. I already ate. And what about after? How about the zoo?"

"No," Ben says more sharply than Ray can remember him replying to anything. His sudden loss of good humor warns Ray. Fucking minefield, he curses inwardly.

"Tell me. Who? What?"

"Victoria."

That's all Ray needs to know. "Okay. Museum then?"

The suggestion is a good one, and Ben is enthusiastic about showing Ray the Field Museum. Ray hasn't been there since he was a child, and while Ben could bore for Canada on just about any subject you could name and especially on nature, the idea of doing something so normal and so different from their daily routine appeals immensely to Ray.

They dress quickly. Ben is wearing an overtight grey-blue knit shirt which makes Ray's breath catch. "Fucking gorgeous," he mutters, doing up his jeans and shaking his head over the Mountie's unconscious beauty.

Ben comes up behind him and holds him around the waist. "Yes, you are."

"I meant you."

"And I meant you."

"This is getting kinda nauseating, Fraser."

"Well, if I can't tell you my appreciation, let me show it." He turns Ray around to face him and sucks at the hollow of his throat. Ray is more than happy to let him.  Ben's hands rove over Ray's backside, pulling him close, and feeling under his shirt.

"Hey, you're making me a mess, Ben Fraser. Whatever happened to tidy Mountie?" Not that Ray is seriously objecting to being groped but if this continues, they'll never get out the door.

"He's on vacation." Ben kisses him until they're both panting. Ray pushes him back.

"Whoa. God. You're gonna make me come in my pants - again - and I didn't bring any more pairs of undies. So just slow down there, Ben."

Ben steps away. "As you wish, Ray," he says innocently, but the smoldering look in his eyes and the half-smile - and the tight shirt - just do things to Ray's heart. He glares at the other man, and walks to the door.

"Park. Squirrels. Shit, I thought you were supposed to be the repressed one."

Ben catches him up and holds the door. "I thought this weekend was supposed to be an exercise in  ... decompression." He steals a quick kiss from Ray, taking him by surprise before striding down the corridor and forcing Ray to run to catch him up.

The humid August heat hits them both like a physical blow after the aggressive air-conditioning of the Hilton, and Ray regrets that he's not wearing shorts. He'd like to suggest a swim, but no way is he going to expose himself like that. It's only just before ten o'clock but the sun is beating down like noon in Death Valley. The green shady cool of Grant Park calls them like a siren and they enter it thankfully. The park is uncrowded, it being the season for city-dwellers to flee the sweltering heat, but it also being a Saturday there are the usual family groups and young lovers strolling hand in hand.

Ray watches a couple of human lovebirds with amusement, as he idly tosses pellets to the overfed rodents who fight the pigeons for the morsels. "You remember what that was like, Ben? Young love? Holding hands, smooching in public?"

Ben doesn't answer straight away and Ray turns to look at him. "Actually, Ray - I've never done that," Ben says. Ray is speechless. Ben explains. "I seem to have a knack for either consorting with the socially unacceptable sex - or for having relationships so brief that there isn't time to do anything in public."

Ben walks on a little way, apparently fascinated by a fat, moth-eaten duck that is hoping for some of Ray's generosity to fall his way without having to actually make any effort to get it. Ray tries to process the implications of what Ben has said. To him the freedom of being with a lover - with Stella - in public was such a fundamental part of their relationship, he's entirely forgotten what being with Ben will mean. No PDAs. No joint invitations to parties or weddings. No casual jokes in the breakroom about the spouse. But even worse, that Ben has never even held hands in public....

Ray walks over to Ben who is now leaning against a tree, watching him warily. Ray looks around quickly and finds they are, temporarily, hidden from view. He takes Ben's hands in his own and holds them to either side of his body against the tree and leans in, kisses him gently, lingeringly.

Ben brings their linked hands down so that they are between their bodies. "Ray, we can't..."

"I know.  I'm not stupid, Ben. Just wanted you to know ... just need to show you." He gives Ben's hands a squeeze and his lips a last soft brush with his own then steps away. Fortunately they haven't been spotted.

"Thank you," Ben says quietly.

"No problem. Look, one day we'll go somewhere - I dunno, like San Francisco, or Rhode Island ... or Hawaii - and we'll hold hands all we like, okay?"

"If I hadn't wasted our time up North we could have done that there."

Ray just snorts. "Not the same through two pairs of gloves, Fraser. Come on, I see some more squirrels over there."

They take their time in the park. Although they can't display their feelings openly, it's perfectly natural for Ray to put his arm around Ben's shoulders from time to time, or brush his back, or pat him, in a manly, 'gay? who us?' sort of way. And they can sit on the grass by the ponds almost touching while they talk about nothing in particular, exploring this new dimension to their relationship - spending idle time together just, well ... idling about.

Ray lies back with his hands behind his head, watching Ben sitting cross-legged, staring out over the water, looking at the motorized model boats. "Something else you haven't done?"

"No. There's a sad lack of public ponds in the Territories, and I never seem to have much time to sit and do nothing."

"Dief?"

"Well, yes. Wolves are not exactly conducive to solitary contemplation. Not that one, anyway."

"When are you going to bring him back?"

"I've asked Maggie to keep him until late Autumn. The heat really has hit him this year, especially after being up North so recently."

They're both silent for a few minutes. "Do you really think ... that he'd have hurt Dief?"

Ben turns to look at him. "I couldn't take the risk. I should never have risked you."

"My choice, Ben. I didn't listen to you and he got me outside my apartment. He was smart, he was slick. Wasn't anything you could have done."

"Except not to have taken up with him in the first place. Except to have never mentioned you to him."

Ben turns away and again stares towards the water. Ray curses himself for bringing up Duroy when he himself had banned the mention of him from conversation. He sits up and risks putting his hand on the small of Ben's back. "Hey. I'm sorry. Forget it, it's done, it's dusted. Just you and me now."

Ben turns his head to him. "And Diefenbaker?"

Ray sees the little smile and returns it. "Yeah, Dief too. No question."

Ray buys them hamburgers in the park. It has become almost unbearably hot now and Ray knows that they're in for a heat wave. Great, he thinks, just as he's going back on active duty. With relief they head for the stone coolness of the Field Museum. Again it's quiet - families with children prefer to be out in the fresh air - but that leaves the displays free for Ray and Ben.

They spend the whole afternoon there and finally it is Ben, not Ray, who calls a halt. "I have to pick up a couple of things from a pharmacy." Ray doesn't dare ask and Ben doesn't explain. He'll tell him when they get back to the hotel, Ray thinks.

They walk back through the park to the hotel. Ray's grown bolder and dares to take Ben's hand briefly on more than one occasion, earning a warm smile that makes him want to throw caution to the winds. But they can't be entirely reckless, especially when he has no idea where this is all leading.

No restraints exist once the room door closes behind them and it's Ben who grabs Ray and pulls him in for a kiss that makes Ray feel like the last glass of water in the desert. Ben's package falls neglected to the floor and Ray almost trips over it as Ben tries to maneuver him to the bed.

"What's that?" he manages to ask in between kisses.

"Later," Ben promises, and Ray shivers. It's only kissing, and hugging, and lot of groping, but this is the most sexually aggressive he's ever seen Ben - ever seen anyone he's been with - and he's just this side of scared. Ben seems to recall who he's with and why they're there, and pulls away, rubbing a hand through his black hair.

"Sorry. It's just ... I've wanted to touch you all day."

Ray leans over and touches his face. "It's okay. It's flattering. But, boy, when your motor gets running ...."

Ben looks embarrassed. "I'm not very good at resisting temptation."

"You could've fooled me, Ben. Now what did you buy, and if you say sex toys I'm outta here."

Ben retrieves his dropped parcel. He holds up a bottle of golden colored oil. "Wheatgerm oil - for massage. It's supposed to be good for scars."

"And the other thing?"

Ben looks embarrassed again and Ray's guessing it's condoms. "It's okay, Ben, I've seen rubbers before."

"Actually, no, it's not prophylactics. I bought some adhesive bandage."

Ray is wondering if this is a new kink before the penny drops. "For your hip ... to hide that ..."

"Yes."

Ray takes the small box out of Ben's hands and turns it in his hands as he speaks. "When are you seeing the surgeon?"

"Monday."

Ray rolls flat on the bed. "I don't understand why you left it so long. That's not like you, Fraser," he says, staring at the ceiling, and carefully not looking at Ben.

Ben is sitting at the end of the bed, and out of the corner of his eye, Ray sees his shoulders slump in defeat. "I don't know. At first, I was just so ashamed and angry. Then it healed fairly well, and when the scars were obviously going to be so prominent and ugly ... I suppose I thought I deserved it, for my own stupidity. It wasn't what you said, Ray - I wasn't trying to remember ... him ... I wanted to erase it from my mind. Going to a doctor and admitting what had happened would have just brought it all back."

Ray sits up and cuddles up behind Ben, laying his head on Ben's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ben. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you should and I was glad you did. You made me think, you made me listen. Sometimes I just don't like the message, that's all." He twists and takes Ray in his arms. "You made me realize that if I didn't act, I was going to lose you. I couldn't allow that."

Ray rests his head against Ben's chest. There's no need to answer. Hard words have been said, needed to be said. Probably more will come.

But for now he wants to lighten the mood. "So you're gonna massage me finally? Can I do you?"

Ben is surprised. "Do you want to? It's not necessary."

"Is that a gun I see pointed at my head, Fraser or are you just implying I'm brain-damaged?" Ray tries for his best scowl.

"Ah... no, Ray. I'd be honored if you were to give me a massage. However, I wonder if you would allow me to take you to dinner first in the restaurant downstairs?"

"You mean like a date?"

"Exactly like a date. Well?"

"Okay. Shirt and tie, I guess. Can't say as I'm in any hurry to see you take that shirt off."

"I doubt their dress regulations are that strict and, uh ... you look rather fetching yourself, Ray."

Ray grins at Ben's embarrassment at the compliment. The mood shifts from horny Mountie to shy Mountie are kinda making his head spin, but then his own emotions are roller-coastering nicely, thank you, without help.

They compromise and put jackets on over their shirts and don't seem much out of place with the clientele.  The food is good as Ray is coming to expect, but what is nicer is the feral gleam in Ben's eyes and the frank impatience to be done and to be back alone together. To Ray's utter shock and delight, Ben strokes his hand more than once ostensibly reaching for items, but the look in his eyes is far from innocent. How the hell does Ben keep all this under wraps? Ray wonders. With everything male and female in Chicago seemingly throwing themselves at his feet, why doesn't he just give in and sample the goods? When he asks Ben, he looks at Ray almost pityingly.

"Ray, what possible attraction could I possibly have to someone who comes up to me and drools? They don't know the first thing about me and yet they are apparently struck dumb with lust because of my appearance. There's nothing remotely flattering - or interesting - about that. And were I to take advantage of their desire, I would be no better than the blow up doll they imagine me to be."

"You want people to love you for your mind, Fraser?"

"I want to be loved, full-stop. I may not be very good at telling the difference but unless I can convince myself of the other person's affection, sex is utterly meaningless. And I can't believe I have to tell you this - you're the most monogamous man I know."

"Hey, if I got the offers you did, that'd change."

Ben wags his fork at Ray in what, Ray thinks, is quite a rude fashion. "Ray Kowalski, that is, pardon the language, pure unadulterated moose scat. I've heard the remarks made about you by females at the precinct - I've seen women who have been very attracted to you. You have never taken any of them up on the offers."

Ray grins. "OK. Busted. So we're  both a couple of monks."

Ben scowls at him. "Finish your coffee, and I'll show you what a monk I am. I can't believe it takes a grown man half an hour to eat a single piece of cheesecake."

They manage to show a little restraint walking back to the room but the second the door shuts, Ben has Ray pinned up against the wall, exploring his tonsils. "I think I've discovered your unattractive side, Ray Kowalski," Ben says, finally setting him free.

Ray shakes himself and gives Ben a cocky grin. "Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"You're a tease."

"And you're insatiable."

"Well, you're lucky I didn't throw you on the table and have my way with you then and there, the way you were licking that spoon."

"I could sell tickets for that, Mountie. Jeez, you're like a teenager - and you've had more sex than I've had this year."

Ben's fake bad humor is replaced by the real thing. "That's really not amusing, Ray. If you don't mind, I'd like to freshen up." He disappears into the bathroom so fast it's a wonder there isn't a sonic boom.

That went well, Ray thinks. All of a sudden he feels tired, and he's not sure he can do this any more. The specter of Claude Duroy keeps looming up no matter how hard they try to exorcise him. He hangs his jacket up, slips off his jeans and shoes and slumps into the chair by the window, looking at the view, not really seeing it. He closes his eyes and ponders whether he should go back to his apartment tonight or tough it out.

A warm, slightly damp hand on his cheek pulls him out of his reverie. "I'm sorry, Ray. That was childish of me," Ben says quietly. He crouches beside Ray's chair. "You meant no harm."

Ben has had a quick shower and smells wonderfully of scented steam and soap. His hair is wet and messy. Ray touches it, can't resist tangling it a little to see what it looks like. "I don't know what to do, Ben. Every time we turn around something else bites us on the ass. Maybe we've both got too much baggage." But even as he speaks, his heart is tightening. To turn away from this, with all they've been through, as partners, as friends - and after Claude - seems like giving up. "I don't want to give up," he whispers.

Ben drops his head to Ray's lap. "Neither do I, Ray," he says, his voice muffled. "I'm not sure I can justify putting you through this to satisfy my own desires."

Ray tugs him by the hair, a little less than gently. "Hey, stupid, we did this conversation - I'm here by choice. Look, let's slow down. How about I give you that massage? Then you can do me and we can both sleep good, OK?"

Ben nods into his lap and stands up, his robe parting slightly, and Ray sees he's wearing boxers. Time for the great underwear question again. Ben pulls back the comforter to the end of the bed, and sits on the sheets, waiting. Ray puts the oil on the nightstand.

"OK - get flat. Back first."

"Ray - the scars ... I don't think ..."

"Yeah, good idea. Let's not think. Look, I saw them already,  I can deal now ... it was a shock yesterday but now I'm cool. Did you, um, cover the you know what?"

"Yes." Ben lies on his front. The room is lit only by the dying rays of the sun, and Ben's back is in shadow.

Ray plucks at the waistband of his boxers. "You happy to lose these?"

"I ... yes, I think so." Ray pulls them off carefully, Ben negotiating the delicate maneuvers at the front and they are put on the chair within reach.

Ray sucks in a breath. _Beautiful ass._

"Is something wrong, Ray?"

"No, Fraser, I'd say everything's just about perfect back here."

Ben looks at him over his shoulder and grins but doesn't say anything. Ray starts at the shoulders, where the worst marks are. Dessert later, he promises himself. He pours a little oil into his cupped hand and lets it warm before rubbing it on. He doesn't really know much about massage, except for having been on the receiving end, but he works in the oil and Ben seems appreciative. He can't see the whip marks but the deeper scars are obvious. He circles a finger around the pucker near Ben's spine.

"Tell me about this?"

Ben exhales, and Ray thinks he might ignore the question, but then he speaks in a low voice. "They thought I might never walk again. I was unconscious mostly while that was happening, but poor Ray - Ray Vecchio - he was worried sick. By the time I was spending any time awake, they'd upgraded the prognosis, and I was out of the hospital in six weeks. The bullet's still there."

"Ben!" Ray is horrified. He had no idea.

"I know. They don't know what it will do. They might be able to remove it, or it might move and cause more problems - it would be all I deserved, really."

Ray whaps him lightly on the ass. "Ben," he warns.

Suddenly Ben rolls over and looks at Ray. "No. I'm right. We need to talk about this - you said I like to have lovers, how did you put it, who are 'pre-fucked up'?"

"Ben, I said a lot of things. I was mad at you." He gets up.

"Where are you going?"

"To turn a light on. You think I'm gonna miss out on the view?"

In deference - slightly - to Ben's modesty, he only turns on a dim light on the far side of the room. He sits on the bed again. Ben certainly has nothing to be ashamed of and Ray is quietly delighted that his partner is so well-formed. But he doesn't linger and begins to rub the broad chest. "OK. Talk. You and your lovers. Why Victoria? Why ... him?"

He moves his hands in firm large circles over the pecs, the abdomen, pausing to tease a nipple now and then, but deliberately keeping his touch mostly non-sexual while Ben talks, his eyes closed and his voice quiet, vibrating through the chest wall to Ray's fingertips. "I've been thinking a lot about this since .. well, since I came to your apartment, and I think there are two possible explanations for just about everything I've done in life that I've regretted. Either my elevator doesn't go all the way to the top floor, or I'm just one arrogant son of a bitch."

Ray stops his movements, shocked into stillness by the bald, calm pronouncement. Ben opens his eyes and looks at him, his expression unreadable. Ray resumes his stroking. "And you reached this conclusion, which I'm not saying I disagree with, how?"

"Arrogance made me shoot a caribou for no other reason than curiosity and bravado when I was thirteen. Quinn warned me I'd regret it - I wouldn't listen. I knew better. I always do.  I went after Victoria Metcalf, on my own, and without backup. I nearly died, I nearly got her killed, and then I told myself that I knew better than my colleagues and my father who told me that getting close to a woman like her was going to be the ruination of me. I thought I knew better. I thought I could change the criminal she manifestly was - and is - into the sweet innocent she never was and never will be."

"Ben, you're not the first guy to make a fool of himself over a pretty girl."

"No, but not every guy lets that pretty girl involve in him in murder and robbery, and puts his best friend in the position of having to shoot said girl, or to shoot  _his_ best friend by accident."

"Nope, you're right there. You fucked up." Ben opens an eye and sees Ray's grin, and the solemn expression lifts momentarily.

"Thank you, Ray. I can see my ego is not likely to become a burden while you're around.  And then we have ... that person. I knew better than to trust you, trust my instincts. Told myself it was best for all concerned to suppress my emotions. Which left me like bait in a sprung trap waiting for him to come along and pick me off. He played me like a fish, never pulling too hard and even when I felt the tug of the line, I knew better. I told myself I could handle it, I could get out anytime. And so I did - at a price. So what would you say was my problem, Ray?"

"You're an arrogant son of a bitch?" Ray bends over Ben and kisses him. "You want to know what I really think?"

"Yes, Ray. That's why I asked you."

Ray sits up and looks at him seriously. "I think you need to get over yourself, Ben Fraser. You're the only one here expecting you to be perfect. And I think you do want people who'll treat you bad cos you think you deserve it, even if you think you can handle it, because you're hitting yourself over the head all the time for not being perfect. That stops right here, right now. From now on you got me, and I'm gonna treat you good whether you want it or not."

Ben reaches up and pulls Ray down to him. "And when you're not around? When this is over?"  Ben's whispered words send shivers of fear down Ray's neck.

"Is that what you think this is? A fling? Just temporary?"

"What do you think this is?"

"I asked first."

Ben urges Ray to lie beside him, so they are face to face. "I think this is one relationship I want to keep, and I think this time it isn't going to be a mistake. But I don't know what you want."

"I told you that yesterday. You. All of you. And now I'm saying forever. You gonna freak out on me?"

Ben answers him by drawing him close for a deep kiss, and wrapping his arms and legs about Ray. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes. I'm going to 'freak out'. I may just hire a billboard to tell people how I feel. I'm contemplating hiring this room for life and losing the key, and never letting you out of my sight. I may even let you wear my Stetson."

"Christ, Fraser. We're talking serious commitment here - I hope you don't think you're getting to drive the GTO any more than you do."

"But Ray, it's a fair exchange - the Stetson for the GTO? If it's really love, true love?"

Ray was having a hard time not cracking up watching Ben trying to keep a straight face. "If you start talking about a 'dweam within a dweam', I'm gonna puke. You yanking my chain, Ben? You mean it? Cos I don't like casual, and I don't like sharing."

"That's goes double for me, Ray. Yes I mean it. I love you. I know things are tough right now, but there's nothing we can't handle. I am a Mountie. You're ... what is it, 'shake, bad guy, shake'?"

"Yeah. We can do it. He's not gonna win this one."

"No. We are. We have."

"Ben?"

"Yes, Ray."

"I think some more of that kissing thing might be nice. Hang on." Ray grins at Ben's disconcerted expression as he jumps off the bed.

"Ray Kowalski, what on earth are you doing?"

"Turning the light off." He does this, then slips his own boxers off before getting back onto the bed. Ben doesn't draw too close.

"Ray - are you comfortable about this?"

Ray moves closer so he brushes Ben's lips with his own, without their bodies touching anywhere else. "You tell me, Ben. You're talking like I was the only one he tried to mess with - I should be asking you. Do you mind me seeing you? Cos I don't mind - you're pretty amazing to look at."

When Ben answers, his breath feathers on Ray's cheek. "I'm okay. Surprisingly. I could never mistake your touch for his - and your scent is different. There might be some things I'll have trouble doing with you but I want you to touch me and to look at me and make me yours. Why don't you do that now?"

When Ray hesitates, Ben takes his hand and gently places it on his dick, covering Ray's hand with his own. "Do you want to touch me here?"

"God, yes. I've wanted to do this for the longest time - the first time I saw you in those damn long johns, you have no idea how close you came to being stripped buck naked and groped."

"And you, I suppose, had no idea how much I fantasized about you doing just that. I think, Ray, some might call us slow on the uptake."

"Yeah. Some cops we make, huh." Ray starts to gently play with Ben's dick, while he nibbles at Ray's neck above the T-shirt and strokes his back. Ben's not hard and doesn't become so but he moves into Ray's touch. Ray knows he's loving every bit of this.

"Ray?"

"Mmmm?" He is concentrating on exploring Fraser's ear and doesn't want to be disturbed.

"Can I touch you?"

Do not freak, Kowalski. You've got your hand on his dick, he touched you last night, you can do this. He goes for a non-committal "Mmmm" again which he hopes doesn't reveal his nervousness. The first touch is feather light, the gentlest of caresses on his dick, and he thinks this is not so bad. But then Ben takes a firmer grip and Ray starts to panic. He tries to tell himself, this is Ben's hand, this is Ben's hand, not Claude's, but then all he can see is himself being cleaned of blood in the hospital, and all he can feel is the pain Claude caused by crushing his balls, and he loses it. He shoves Ben's hand away and curls into the tightest of fetal curls. "No, don't touch me, do not fucking touch me," and he is lost in a world of hurt, fighting his runaway breathing and his pounding heart and knowing any second he's going to be sick.

When he comes back to himself, he is being cradled and rocked, and his name is being whispered quietly, patiently. His heart is still beating too fast and he's shivering. Ben strokes his face. "It's all right, Ray. You're safe. No one will touch you. Come back to me."

"I'm okay, Ben," he says hoarsely. For answer, Ben just holds him tighter, until the shivering dies a little. "So sorry, Ben."

"Don't be. I should have realised." Ben continues to stroke him, to hold him, and the warmth and strength of his body begins to work on Ray, relaxing him. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"I hate my body, Fraser. He took that away from me. Can't look, can't be touched. I hate this." Ray's voice is shaking and he knows he's this close to breaking down and that makes him angry enough to spit. There's no end to the humiliation that bastard is going to cause him.

"Ray, look at me."

Ray lifts his head. He can't really see Ben's face, the room is dark and the light is behind him, but he can see the glint of his eyes, and shadows. Ben kisses him softly. "Ray, you will get over this. You're alive. He's dead. He can't hurt you any more. We need to replace the bad memories with the good."

"How? All I can feel is his fucking hands on me ... and the blood, and the smell of it ...."

"No, don't, Ray. Let it go. Just wait there, I want to try something."

Ray stays curled up and closes his eyes. He feels Ben get off the bed, then he hears him drawing the curtains. He opens his eyes and the room is pitch dark. "What are you doing?"

"I have an idea to help you. Do you trust me?"

Ray considers. Two weeks ago, before he was torn up by Claude Duroy, he told Ben he no longer trusted him. Ben hadn't told him about his relationship with Duroy and although Ray now understands why, he still hasn't forgiven Ben entirely for that. Ben thinks his long silence means something else entirely.

"I'm sorry. Bad idea. Let's just get some sleep."

Ben climbs onto the bed, but then Ray gives him his answer. "Yes, Ben. I trust you. In this, always. You'd never hurt me."

Ray hears the exhalation of breath and knows that Ben knows what the unspoken caveat is. He also knows that Ben will accept it, take his licks as he should. He fucked up, he knows it. Now he wants to help Ray and Ray is going to let him. "OK," Ben says quietly. "I want you to take your T-shirt off. I can't see you, you can't see yourself. You're completely safe. I won't turn a light on and you can tell me to stop or get dressed or do whatever you want at any time. All right?"

"Yeah." Ray slips the shirt off and throws it over the end of the bed. Then he feels for Ben's hand and puts it on his chest for confirmation. He feels Ben kiss him.

"Lie down on your back, Ray. Like you did last night." Ray obeys, then he hears Ben fumbling on the nightstand.

"I'm just going to massage you for a while now, and all I want you to do is relax. Try and stay awake for me if you can."

Ray feels Ben's warm hands, slick with freshly applied oil, on his shoulders, then he begins a deep, gentle and utterly soothing massage that eases the constant tickle and pull across the damn scars and the last remnants of his panic attack. Despite Ben's request he does find himself falling asleep and has to try and concentrate on the pleasant feelings. Ben's voice startles him.

"Tell me what you are feeling right now, Ray. Describe the sensation."

"S'nice. Your hands. Kinda heavy, warm. Make me feel safe. Real smooth."

"Keep talking. Tell me," Ben orders as his hands move incrementally down onto his stomach. "How does this feel to you?"

"Weird. No one's ever rubbed my belly like that. It's good. Can't tell where your hands end and I start."

"How do you feel in your head?"

"Relaxed. Sleepy. Like I want this to never stop."

"I'm going down lower now, Ray." Ben's voice is low, silky. "You tell me if I need to stop. But keep talking. Tell me everything you're feeling, everything you're thinking." Ben's thumbs press and massage Ray's pubic bone, just where the hair starts, then around the base of his dick.

"Um,  kinda tense now. It feels good, but I'm thinking any second now it's gonna hurt."

"Does this hurt?" The flat of Ben's hand ghosts over the length of Ray's dick, continuing to the top of his legs.

"No. Tickles a bit."

"Can you spread your legs a little? OK. Just relax. And keep talking." The very tips of Ben's  fingers skim Ray's balls, then up his penis again, up onto his belly, circling one nipple and then the other, then retracing its path down again, until the hand rests gently on top of Ray's dick.

"That's fine - your hand is nice and warm." Ray feels Ben's other hand come up to carefully cup his balls and he freezes. "No!"

Ben immediately removes his hand, and places it gently on Ray's chest.

"OK. It's okay. No one's hurting you. Just keep talking to me. What are you thinking?" Ben moves his hand firmly, soothingly on Ray's chest, over his heart.

"Keep feeling his hand there."

"Like this?"

"No. He hurt - bruised me."

"So my touch isn't like his?" The hand resting over Ray's dick flexes gently, the heel of Ben's palm resting on the pubic bone, no pressure on the actual genitals.

"No."

"Tell me?"

"You're ... it's like you're protecting me. With your hand there, no one can hurt me."

"I want you to concentrate on this hand," he moves the one on Ray's chest, "and on my voice. OK?"

"Yeah."

"Just breathe slowly. Listen to me. Don't think of anything but my voice."

Ben starts to slowly rub his hand in circles on Ray's chest. "When I touch you, Ray, bare skin to bare skin, I can feel your life, your heart under my fingertips." He traces carefully over the scars, his own name carved on Ray's chest. "You don't like the marks on you, but to me they are the signs of strength, bravery. They are the signs that you are alive and that you aren't dying as in my dream. To me they are precious."

Ray inhales a little, wanting to argue, but Ben presses very gently on his chest to warn him not to speak, then continue to rub, speaking in a low, even tone. "They're not beautiful, but you are. And strong. When you see those marks, I want you to remember my hand on you like this, and how much I love you and desire you and admire you. I want you to feel the warmth of my touch on you. That's all you will remember. You won't feel shame or pain or feel bad in any way."

He keeps rubbing, his voice drifting into Ray's conscious and subconscious mind. Ray feels like he might float away, only the weight of Ben's hand keeping him on the bed. He can't feel his arms or his legs at all. Hasn't felt this good ... well, at least not since before that man came into their lives. He realises Ben has changed focus.

"I'm going to move my other hand now. Keep concentrating on the hand on your chest, how good that feels. When you feel relaxed enough, just allow yourself to feel where my other hand is. Can you feel it now?"

"Yes," Ray whispers.

"How does it feel? Is it good?"

"Warm. Gentle."

"Doesn't hurt?"

"No." Ben carefully cups Ray's balls. Ray feels Ben's hand move, start to close, and his body tenses.

"Just focus on the other hand, feel how good that is, Ray. You are safe here. No one will harm you." Under the hypnotic repetition, Ray relaxes again. Ben's hand encloses his balls very, very carefully, and the warmth feels wonderful. "How does that feel, Ray?"

"Good. I feel safe."

"I want you to remember this feeling. When I touch you, remember how safe and peaceful you are now. No other memory will come to you. All you will remember is feeling good, and feeling loved. You are loved, Ray. I love you."

"Love you, too, Ben," Ray mumbles, very close to sleep. Ben continues to stroke him and talk to him and then gradually he moves and lies down next to Ray, still caressing and whispering. Ben pulls the covers over them, and kisses his cheek.

"Good night, Ray." Ray turns his head into the touch of Ben's lips, but is asleep before he can finish the gesture.

Ray sleeps soundly but is again woken by the sound of Ben caught in a nightmare. But this time, Ray doesn't try and completely wake him, he just shakes him until he rises into the next level of unconsciousness. Once again Ben begins to sob and Ray knows of what he must be dreaming. He quietly speaks to Ben, telling him that he is alive and well. Then, remembering how much Ben wanted the assurance that he was unharmed, he takes Ben's hand which Ben has wrapped around his own body, and puts it on his chest. "Feel this, Ben. Feel it, there's nothing wrong with me. I'm okay." He keeps up the litany until he feels Ben relax. He lies down again and keeps Ben's hand in his own, on his chest, and cuddles close, Ben's return to peaceful deep sleep followed quickly by his own.

 

* * *

The room is still dark when Ray awakes, and he wonders if it is still night time. But then he realises that there is bright sun behind the heavy curtains and it is later than he thought. Ben is still asleep to his surprise, still lying close against him. Ray feels deeply content and rested, and marvels slightly on how much better he is than when he walked in this room just 36 hours ago. He also badly needs to piss so he very carefully slides out from beside Ben, managing not to wake him.

He completes the necessary and washes his hands, realising that he is still avoiding looking at himself in the mirror. He forces himself to look. The scars are still there of course. They are still ugly and it is very hard for him not to wince with remembered pain. He closes his eyes and puts his hand on his chest and immediately he is calmer. He's not stupid - he knows Ben was doing the old Jedi mind trick on him but he didn't care, doesn't care. Anything to give him back normality. He opens his eyes, and takes his hand away. Smiles.

He slips back into bed and Ben's eyes open. Ben doesn't speak, just comes in for a kiss, one hand snaking behind Ray's head to bring him closer. There's tenderness in the touch but hunger too. He wants more this morning and so does Ray. He plasters himself full length against Ben, feeling the morning erection and the warm dry skin of chest, belly and legs against his own. Neither of them are hairy men so there's nothing to impede the delicious closeness. Ray's mouth is being attacked enthusiastically by a talented tongue so he gets a little revenge by seizing Ben's dick and giving a pump or two, winning a flattering loss of concentration from his lover. He rolls them over until he can find the massage oil, and is quite proud of how he manages to get a little oil in his hand without breaking contact with the hungry mouth taking him. He rubs the oil on both palms, rolls the two them back until they are face to face on their sides, then reaches down and covers Ben's dick. Ooh, that's better. Nice and easy. He wipes the rest of the oil on his own penis and immediately Ben swoops and takes him in hand. That makes him jump and Ben retreats a little, so Ray grabs the hand and puts it back where it was, pushing into the grip. Ben grins - he's got the message - and begins to stroke firmly, slowly. God, that's good. Ray realises he's just lying there and taking it and resumes his own attentions.

Ray can't decide which is more arousing - Ben's tongue in his mouth (did that man ever hear of morning mouth?  Maybe the RCMP doesn't allow it) - or the hand on his dick, but he's damn glad he hasn't got to choose. He's trying to resist thrusting, wanting to draw this out but Ben is wringing his orgasm out of him mercilessly, a few seconds after his own. Ben releases him but keeps kissing and nibbling him, stroking his back. The nicest way to spend the afterglow.

They lie on their backs happy and satisfied. Ray uses the sheet to wipe them off.

"Ray, that's pretty uncouth," Ben says without rancour.

"Couth, schmooth, we're checking out today and they gotta wash them anyway. And I'm not getting out of bed just yet." Ray looks at Ben, defying him to argue and gets a grin and a kiss. Those Mountie standards, all a front. He knew it.

"You were dreaming again, Ben."

Ben's face loses its cheerfulness. "Sorry. I woke you?"

"Yeah, but it's okay. I put your hand on my chest, and whispered sweet nothings in your ear, you went off like a baby."

Ben lookssheepish. "That might explain why I was having such a nice dream when I woke up."

"Oh yeah? Anything good in it?"

"Well, to me, it was. You were in it, of course, and you were standing in the sun."

Ray slips out the bed and walks over to the curtains, drawing them slowly. The bright sunlight streams in - it's getting late. He stands with his back to the window, his arms resting on the bar.

"Then what?"

Ben rises on an elbow. "You said you loved me."

"I do love you."

Ben rises and walks over to him. He picks up one of Ray's hands, kisses it, then puts it flat on Ray's chest and lets his own cover it. They stand in the sunlight holding each other for a long time.

At last Ray lifts his head. "Ben? We're checking out soon, huh?"

"In an hour or two," he replies, against Ray's ear.

"After that - you and me...."

"What, Ray?"

"I think we should go home. Together."

"Understood, Ray."

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written nearly twenty years ago under another pseudonym. It hasn't been revised (or reread by me) since then.
> 
> I am posting this and my other stories from this period purely so people can read them if they choose. I won't be reading comments, and don't care if you leave kudos. I'm dumping them and running.
> 
> Having said that, I worked hard on them, and I hope they still entertain someone out there.


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